


The Blood of Revenge

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By Minka.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 2
Collections: Least Expected





	1. Ill Happenings

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is bent on revenge fo a crime that Aragorn committed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I also own nothing!!! All characters written about in this chapter belong to Tolkien and not me. I may have a few unimportant characters coming up, but chances are that somehow - even though I made them up I wont own them either. Guess I'm just unlucky! Lol. 
> 
> I think that is a bout all, so sit back, relax, and enjoy.

The door slowly creaked open, flooding the darkened room with the soft glow of the torches that burned in the hallway. The room was spacious and will furnished, large tapestries hung from the ceiling and royal patterned rugs covered the floor. A wooden desk pilled with papers sat in the corner just near the curtained doorway to the balcony. But it was the four poster bed that drew the attention of the intruder standing in the doorway. It was crafted out of strong dark wood; its posts carved into an elaborate twisted design that accented the woods grain. Red and black silk was used as sheets and covers, adding the royal affect to the whole scene and a white fly net hung from the crossed over top poles forming an inclosed cover. 

The intruder stepped into the room cautiously. He could easily hear the deep and relaxed breaths of the sleeping form spread out in the bed as well as faintly being able to see the rise and fall of the silk sheets. But that did nothing to ease his troubled mind. 

Pushing a lock of his golden hair away from his face he peered further into the room. Nothing moved except the steady rising of the lump in the bed and the occasional blowing of the curtains in the wind. 

The tall figure closed the door with a soft click and silently walked over to the bed. Pulling back the netting, the tall man leaned in to look at the person that he had ruthlessly hunted for so long. Months of tiresome searching and tracking had been spent looking for this man, and now that he had found him, he could feel the anger rise up within him again, even though it had never truly left. 

The man's shoulder length wavy dark hair hung about his face and spilled onto the pillow. A small amount of facial hair grew on his upper lip ad chin, framing a slightly parted mouth. His breaths were even and fluent even though his brow was creased into a frown. 

As the figure watched, the man tossed in his sleep, letting out a startled cry as he clung to a small black square pillow. The sudden movement made the standing man draw back with a start, his heart pounding quickly. 

Looking at the seemingly defenseless sleeping man, his heart slowly started to soften. There was something about the unconscious form in the bed that almost made the intruder want to turn and leave, to put the past months of anger and hurt out of his mind and let the cursed man live. 

Almost. 

With a silent sigh he slumped down into a chair that was positioned near the bed and carefully placed his booted feet upon the silky sheets. He couldn't understand why he was having these doubts. This human had taken from him what he held dear, what he thought to be the source of his very existence, and now, when he had the chance, he found himself wanting to spare the evil man. 

He thought to the stories the Elders used to tell him when he was but a hundred years old. That Men were evil, that they were a hindrance to Manw and reflected in them too much of the like of Melkor. For as long as he could remember that was what was taught to him, "never trust the likes of a Man, for their hearts and heads are corrupted and they hold no love for the gifts given to them," the words of his advisor, his teacher and his friend. 

To this day he had never trusted a Man, and he could see why the Elders spoke of them in the way that they do. He had seen for himself the destruction that pumped through their veins, driving them forward with an unquenchable thirst for power and titles. Their want for glory even in times of great peace and most of all their blunt disrespect for the world and it's intricate song. 

It upset him more then angered him, that a being with such gifts from the gods could be so distant from them. But there was nothing he could do about it and he knew it. One Elf could not change the course of the future, even if he had reason to try. So why should he care that this man should loose his life as a payment of that which he took? 

To this, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, king of the woodland Elves of Mirkwood had no answers. All he felt was a deep confusion that ate away at his very soul. He did not want to take this mans life, nor did he wish to let him live and go against his fathers wishes, yet deep down, he felt something was wrong. Something was not how it should be, that something had been changed, not just in the world but in him. 

Until a few months ago, Legolas would have never known that he could feel such hate and anger to anything but Orcs, let alone a human. Sure he did not like them, but it was not of the fiery rage that forced its way to the surface like it did now. But this man had taken from him a friend, someone that he valued above his own life, and for that Thranduil had bid Legolas gain revenge, not just for himself, but for all the Elves. 

What had followed then was month after month of tracking the fleeing mortal half way across Middle-Earth, only to have him turn around and head right back. 

He had finally caught up with his prey in Bree, but when a rather large brawl broke out in The Prancing Pony, somehow the dark-haired man had given him the slip and once again headed off into the wild. 

For a human, he was well skilled in bush survival and in the ways of the land, which at first did surprise Legolas, but he soon found the reason for this talents. As it turned out, the man was a ranger, one of the few Men that the Elves had any contact with whatsoever. All this new found information did was to confuse Legolas further as why would a ranger have the need or want to kill an immortal? They were one of the few humans that saw the beauty in the world, had other ideas of living their mortal lives then just for the purpose of gaining power and wealth. And above all, they still saw their mortality as a gift, the way Ilvartar had intended. 

To Legolas, this title automatically called for respect, and yet here he was, stalking the man in order to kill him for the wrongs that he had committed. 

When the ranger had left Bree and headed right for Rivendell, Legolas had feared the worst, but instead of the man sneaking in and killing yet another, he was welcomed gleefully by Lord Elrond and the other elves, as if he had lived there all his life. Yet another confusing twist to add to the list of doubts that were ever growing in Legolas's mind. 

But now here he was, sitting in the man's room, ready to do what his father bid him do three months ago. 

It had taken all of the Elf's skill to sneak into Rivendell. He hated the fact of having to be so secretive, but he knew that if his presence was known than there would be feasts and welcomes, and the man would be warned of his arrival, thus giving him the chance to escape him again. This he could not let happen, so instead, he snuck in between the guard shifts. 

Rivendell's defenses were some of the best, but years of treading lightly and staying out of sight of the fell beasts that now roamed Mirkwood had taught the crowned prince a thing or two about being cunning and silent, beyond even that of a normal Elf's ability. 

As he sat there, watching the sleeping person and reminiscing about the time he had passed tracking him, his doubts increased. Something really felt wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was. 

Finally, with a lot of careful consideration, he made up his mind to leave, to slip out as silently and quickly as he had come and forget about this whole unpleasant experience. 

Pulling his feet from the bed, he stood up gracefully and walked to the door. Reaching down for the door handle, he took it in his grasp, and that's when he heard it. 

A scream. 

A terror filled scream that pierced his heart. That scream had followed him, had been there whenever he had the time to take note of it. It drowned out the sound of the morning birds chirping as they woke, hid the bubbling of streams and rose above the voices of crowded rooms. 

It belonged to a dying immortal. His friend, pierced through the heart by an arrow as he lay there in Legolas's arms, fear in his eyes as his soul slipped away, leaving the body far behind. With this scream came the realization that he could not leave, he had to finish what he started, not for himself, but for his friend. 

Swiftly turning back to face the bed, he stalked over to the open netted side. Reaching down into his boot he pulled out a short dagger forged of silver and gripped it tightly in his right hand. The curtains blew in the background, allowing a sliver of moonlight to come streaming into the room, illuminating the face of the sleeping man and glittering off the tip of the dagger. 

Legolas ignored what he saw as an attempt to sway his mind, and lifted the dagger higher, aiming it to plunge into the mans heart. But what came next was something that within all his planning he could not have guessed to happen. 

Another scream filed his ears; the only difference was that this one was here in the room with him, not being played in his head. 

Spinning around to face the door he saw a young Elven maiden standing at the now opened door. Legolas realized that he must have been so caught up in what he was doing that he had not heard the door open or the entrance of the young woman. What she was doing here he had no clue to, but before he could try to speak to her, she slammed the door shut and called again for the guards. 

The man in the bed was slowly and groggily coming too, taking his time in opening his eyes and Legolas was at least thankful for that blessing on this horrible night. 

Legolas could hear the guards' footsteps running down the hall and knew that things had gone really bad. Looking wildly around him, he saw only two options. One was the window, but he knew that he had only moments before the guards would arrive and he would never make it, no matter how fast he was. The other was more dangerous and even irrational, but there was really nothing else he could do. 

Making up his mind to go with the latter idea, he quickly whirled into action just as the door flew open for a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbc... 
> 
> Ok, so I'm evil, deal! 
> 
> Hope you liked that. I thought it would be cool to do something about when they met, but it has been done so many times before, so I though I'd add a little bit of Minka weirdisum and see what I could come up with - this was it. And it will get a bit weirder and a hell of a lot darker and touch on a hate rarely seen. 
> 
> Minka Rain Greenleaf.


	2. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas acts in the only way posible with serious outomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still don't own anythng.
> 
> Ok, umm, I do not own the filing cabinet, the printer, or the fax. I am glad I don't own the van, but sadly I own Lord of the Rings only in my dreams. I mean, seriously, if I did own Lord of the Rings, why the hell would I be pairing Legolas off with Aragorn - I mean, me here! Not to mention the fact that I would not be writing this crap for you people to read as I would be selfish and keep it all to myself! _evil grin_

With only seconds to act, Legolas took the only option that had presented itself as well as providing any hope of survival. 

As the man in the bed slowly came to his senses, he was soon aware of two hands gripping his shoulders firmly and hauling him to his feet. He heard the rushed footsteps of what he could only guess were the guards and then two things, the door bursting open and the cold feel of a blade pressed to his throat. 

Legolas stood there, a mask of indifference on his face showing no emotion at all. He fought hard to keep his hand holding the blade from shaking, and even harder to hold the fast awakening man to him, pinning his arms by his sides. 

The prince of Mirkwood watched as the guards poured into the room, their faces showing the shock that he himself shared. He still had no real wish to kill this human, yet at the same time he did. It was as if his mind were clouded with a thick fog, one that could not be chased away by light and a steady wind. 

He felt alone, lost even, as he stood there, faced with a dozen armed Rivendell guards. He could safely and truthfully say that he had never felt so confused in his life. He had no clue as to what to do now, especially as he had already made his supposed intentions clear to those standing in the room. They thought that he was going to kill the man even though he did not really want to. Yet he was standing there, with a dagger pressed to the man's throat, holding him captive in the human's very room as the guards looked upon him as if he were a killer. But he wasn't - or was he? Would he really do it? 

So far, the man in his grasp had not even moved let alone made a sound and Legolas could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Legolas felt as if he didn't know anything at the moment, he barely even recognised himself anymore. 

When one of the guards finally spoke, it was as if he truly was hearing it through a fog or from under the surface of the water. It was quiet, muffled and distant even though he stood only a few feet away from the speaker. Legolas quickly shook his head in an attempt to clear it and to bring himself back to the present moment, yet all he succeeded in doing was making himself fell sick and dizzy. 

Mustering all his concentration he focused on the guard in front of him, and slowly the words came into focus and made remote sense in his mind. 

"Let him go and step to the side," the guard repeated for what Legolas thought was the second time - or was it the first. Everything was happening to fast for him to think clearly and yet one thing was blindingly obvious; he had to get out. 

Acting solely on instinct, he pulled the man closer and started to force him to move backwards with him by pressing the blade closer to the exposed flesh of the neck. The man got the idea and followed him with only a moment's hesitation. 

Legolas knew this situation was fast turning from bad to worse and felt himself almost pitting the man he dragged with him. The guards called out to him again to stop and let the man go, but Legolas knew better of that. 

One of the other guards turned his attention from Legolas to the man in his grip, "Estel, do you know this Elf?" he asked of the man. 

"Nay, I know him not," the man Legolas now knew as Estel replied through clenched teeth. For some reason this thought disturbed Legolas even more. It was not only the fact that he had been stalking this man for months and was now ready to kill him, but more the fact that he did not even know his name. He was holding a dagger to the throat of a living thing and did not even know its name until now. Somehow, with this and the fact that the man did not claim to know him either made this situation seem all the more wrong and Legolas knew that he had made a mistake - or had he? 

The thoughts raced through his head so fast that all he wanted to do was to clutch at it, to make it stop, to drop everything and just make this pain in his head stop. It was so intense, the pain so strong that he soon realised that his vision was slightly blurry and that his breaths were coming in quick, short gasps. 

"This is your last chance," the head guard warned, "let him go and come peacefully, or we will have to resolve this with force." 

For a split second, Legolas felt as if he should do that, that somehow if he co-operated all this would be worked out and the pounding in his head would cease. But no, it wouldn't. He would be taken away and locked up, in a small room away from nature and peace. No one knew him here, no one would be able to confirm his identity and, for some reason, he felt as if his father would not come for him. Not even Lord Elrond would know him, and he mentally cursed himself for always making a point of avoiding any meetings of the Elven Lords. 

Pulling the man further back while still using his body as a shield he voiced his answer, "No." It sounded weak, tired and containing no strength whatsoever, even to him. 

Backing up, having no idea what he was to do now, Legolas' foot caught on something, knocking him off balance. He and the man Estel fell backwards, landing on the soft bed in the centre of the room. 

As Estel felt the Elf holding him fall backwards, he panicked and did the only thing possible, he threw himself back upon the Elf hard, to both help the Elf fall and to avoid the deadly side of the dagger. 

Legolas groaned as he was trapped between the bed and the weight of the man on top of him. His head was spinning faster now and his body seemed somewhat unable to obey him. Fighting for control of himself, he pushed as hard as he could at the man laying on him, until he could just feel the floor beneath his booted feet. 

Luckily, the dagger had remained in place against the man's throat so he offered little to no resistance, and the guards were somewhat unwilling to endanger the life of their captured friend. 

The entire act of getting back to his feet was rather hard for Legolas, especially with the burden of Estel to try and manoeuvre at the same time. But slowly he managed to get them both to their feet and once again took up his slow retreat, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach the window. 

With each step he took, the guards took a step after him, their bows noticed and waiting for an opening to shoot at. It was rather lucky that the ranger was tall and well built or too much of Legolas may have been exposed, but his slender frame fit behind the man well, exposing only the top of his head. And thankfully, he knew that the Elves would not wish to kill him before they got some answers. 

The prince's tunic was suddenly lifted slightly as a cool breeze filled it, proving that he was indeed close to the window. A lightening quick glance to his right confirmed that, and told him it was only a matter of steps to what could mean freedom - at least on some level as he still had the matter of what to do with the man known as Estel. But he would worry about that later. 

The thin silvery sherfon curtains blew around the Elf and his captive while the moon shone brightly on them both, making them look as if they were both something out of this world. Each pace seemed to make Legolas's head spin more, but he was faintly aware of the sent the breeze carried. It was the soft perfume of lavender accented by the normal smells of any forest. In all this confusion and even fear, these seemed to be at least two things that had not changed in some way. 

At last his foot slid over the join in the floor and the floor of the outside balcony. While this proved to be good in some ways, it also aroused new problems. How was he to get off over the railing while still using his captive as a shield? Before he could think more on the subject at hand, he heard the lead guard speak again. 

"You have nowhere to go, Elf," he almost screamed at Legolas, "now give it up!" 

For some reason, Legolas felt himself answering the guard, though what good it was to do him he knew not. "You know as well as I that I can not surrender now." He was relieved that his voice had regained it strength and no longer sounded like he would choke on his own words. 

"Yes you can," said a voice, and Legolas soon realised that it was that which belonged to Estel. "You can still walk away from this." He tried to convince Legolas. 

To Legolas' surprise, as well as that of the guards, he found himself laughing, "You have to be kidding me," he managed to say through an almost insane laughter, "how daft do you think I am. There is only one way out of this, and you and I alike both know what it -" his sentence was cut short by a sudden cry that escaped his lips. The rushing of emotions in his head intensified and his vision blurred yet again. For the second time he wanted to hold his aching head, to squeeze it between his palms until the pain was pushed out. 

Legolas was faintly aware that the man in his grasp had dared to turn his head and look at him the best he could, and when Legolas' eyes met the dark grey ones of the man's, he could have sworn that he saw the faint traces of concern in them. 

The guards had stopped their advancement to stare the Elf, who was now showing the signs of the agony he felt clearly on his face. Never before had they seen such a thing and, in their eyes, it made Legolas all the more dangerous. 

Legolas, now hyperventilating and shaking, let his grip on the human slack a little. Slowly, giving in to the urge, the arm that was holding the man to him let go completely and travelled to the side of his head, pressing hard into his temple. 

That was all it took, that one little moment of weakness was the thing that could prove his downfall. 

Estel stepped away only a little, not sure whether to hate the Elf that stood in front of him, or to try and help him. It was the first good look at his would be captor or killer that he had had, and he was rather pleasantly surprised. All the while he had been in his grip, he had, for some reason pictured the face above his to be scared and rugged, unlike that of any Elf he had ever seen. But that was just a stereotype that he had picked up along his travels, that the cruel and evil ones always looked ugly, like an Orc. And yet this Elf was far from it. 

Even in his pain, Legolas was strangely compelling. His skin was silky and smooth, the colour of cream. His hair was well cared for and hung past his shoulders in a cascade of golden-blond. He was tall and slender, yet he was stronger then he looked - much stronger - and as he stood there, one hand pressed to his head, the other holding the dagger by his side, he seemed almost feline in his posture. 

Legolas was hardly aware that the ranger that he had hunted for so long had pulled himself free of his grip. His world had shrunk to consist of only two things, him and his pain, yet he was somewhat unsure if even he was anywhere to be found in this world of agony. He still continued to stumble blindly backwards, trying to get away from what was unknown, and slowly, the small of his back came in contact with the smooth stone railing. 

The guards were at a loss as to what to do. This crazed Elf had tried to kill or kidnap one of their own, and yet looking at him now, in all his pain, he seemed weak and unable to hurt a fly. But he had attempted murder - or what they thought should be considered murder. 

The lead guard looked to Estel for council, still unsure what to do with the now wailing Elf leaning hard against the stone railing. "Estel, how do you fare?" he asked, his voice slightly shaken at the scene that had just unfolded before him. 

"I'm fine, Coravil," Estel sighed while still watching the tall blond Elf before him. For some reason he did not want to see this Elf hurt, he did not fathom why, but it was just something about the way he stood there, so vulnerable. 

"Sir," one of the younger guards questioned him, "What are we to do with him?" he asked while indicating to Legolas who had now dropped his dagger and was holding his head in both hands. His eyes were squeezed tight and a small trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten into his bottom lip. 

Estel took a slow step to where Legolas stood, while answering softly that he didn't know. The still nameless Elf stood there shaking uncontrollably and, as far as Estel knew, unaware of his approach. 

Legolas felt as if an axe had cleaved his skull and if he were to move it, it would surely come loose from his shoulders. He had long bitten into his lip to silence the cries that threatened to force their way up his dry and cracked throat and was well aware of the metallic taste of his own blood slipping warmly down his chin and into his mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, or even seen in another Elf, and this alone worried him more than he cared to admit to himself. 

Then, faintly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep coming towards him. With a sickly feeling he remembered where he was and all that had just taken place. He wanted out. Wanted to be free of this horrible place in which he had no control. 

It was this thought alone that made him move. As yet another footstep fell, this time right next to him, his head snapped up and he dropped his arms to his side. Looking wildly around him, he saw that it was the human Estel that had approached him. Briefly, he wondered why the man had come so close to him, especially as he had tried - or had he really? - to kill him only moments before. 

Then before he had time to consider this any more, his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of an arrow being released right at him. 

The youngest guard, having seen Legolas suddenly come to life in actions, panicked and let his arrow fly straight towards the heart of the stranger. Coravil quickly pushed the youngster down, but was not quick enough to stop the already flying arrow, and he, as well as the other guards were forced to watch on in terror and utter helplessness. 

Estel, it seemed, had also heard the soft sound, and, seeing that the dazed Elf had no time to react to dodge the flying shaft, threw himself towards the Elf. He did not know why he felt compelled to do such a thing, especially to this unknown would-be murderer, but something in the hasty reaction felt right. 

And so, both man and Elf went crashing over the stone railing and sprawling onto the dew damp grass beneath, but not before the tip of the arrow embedded itself in Estel's right shoulder. 

As Legolas landed the wind was knocked right out of him and the extra weight of the human did nothing to make the impact less painful. The prince knew not why this human had helped him, or what really had happened on the balcony, but he was thankful nonetheless. 

It wasn't until the human groaned and tried to push himself off the slender Elf that Legolas realised that the arrow had struck his saviour. Guilt rushed through him until he remembered that just a few minutes ago he was about to kill the man while he slept. His head had still hadn't stopped pounding, and he now felt the tugging in his stomach warning him that he was about to vomit. 

By now most of the guards were jumping off the balcony to see what had befallen their friend and his captor, and were helping a rather dazed Estel to his feet. A pair of hands reached down towards Legolas, who, with as much strength he could manage, pushed them away ere rolling onto his side, and heaving violently. 

It was only the second time in his life that he had ever been sick, and already he had resolved that he did not like the feeling at all. The first time was when he had found his dead mother after she was in the clutches of the Orcs for a number of days, and even now as he retched, flashes of her bruised and bloody face appeared before his closed eyes. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could not purge the memories from his mind and that they would always follow him, no matter where he went. 

None of the guards made a move to the Elf's side and for some reason that angered Estel more than anything. Shoving Coravil's supporting arms off him, he stumbled somewhat ungracefully to where the blond Elf lay still vomiting. Not completely knowing what to do or why he was doing it, he simply placed his hand reassuringly on the Elf's back while holding his silky hair out of his face. 

As Legolas continued to retch, Estel slowly started to whisper words of encouragement into his ear, much to his own confusion as well as the guards that just stood watching from nearby. 

After some time it seemed that Legolas had nothing more in his stomach to empty and he just lay there, his body shaking gently. He was aware of the hand on his back, and the hand that now stroked his hair were once it was holding it from his face, yet he made no move to be released from the touch. Even when, to his surprise, the man pulled his head into his chest and cradled him while still muttering things so soft that even Legolas could not make them out. 

At this, the guards exchanged baffled glances, not quite sure what had transpired between the two on the ground. And so they stood and merely watched, utterly fanaticised at the turn of emotions between the two strangers. 

No one knew how long they stayed there, it could have been just minuted or it could have been hours, but when a clear and regal voice cut through the quiet sobs and hushed whispers, all eyes, including Estel's turned to the sound. 

"Would one of you care to explain to me just what in Valar's name is going on here?" Lord Elrond asked while casting his gaze to the blond Elf in his foster son's arms and the arrow that still penetrated from Estel's shoulder. 

Estel looked up at the Lord flanked by his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, with a look that a child in trouble would give to his parents who were about to scold him. 

Finally, at Elrond's expecting sigh, Estel found the words that had fleeted him as soon as the three had appeared. "I can expl - " looking down at the now sleeping blond Elf who still shook spasmodically in his arms, he changed his mind. Shaking his head he corrected himself, knowing that he sounded as confused as he really was, "I can not explain a thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbc... 
> 
> There you go, yet another chapter of yet another story. Aren't you people getting sick of me yet?? Seriously I don't think that I have held people's interest and attention for so long in my life. Normally they get bored with me - or is that cause I just tell them to get lost and to 'blow me' - should work on my personally and social skills huh? 
> 
> Minka Rain Greenleaf


	3. Blurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more is found out about Legolas' condition, and Estel's feelings grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own anything!
> 
> Still own nothing!

Elrond's eyebrows arched at the weak and unexplained words of his foster son. To say that this situation had startled him was an understatement as it was just too confusing to even contemplate. Who this blond Elf was he had no idea and why Estel had an arrow in his should was also a worrying thought. 

Turning to Coravil he openly displayed his confusion, and at the look that the guard gave him in reply it looked as if he knew no better. 

"My Lord," Coravil began somewhat shakily, "this Elf," he motioned to the sleeping blond, "tried to kill young Estel." As soon as the words had escaped his lips he felt a fool. Looking at the scene that was before him, he would not blame the lord if he called him a lair for surely, no one who had just had their life threatened would be holding the attempted murderer in their arms, rocking him to sleep. 

Lord Elrond also looked to the two figures on the ground. The blond Elf looked as if he could not hurt a fly - especially in his current state - and Estel looked as if the Elf he was holding was a precious possession. "Are you telling me that this shaking Elf Estel is currently holding is the reason he has an arrow in his shoulder?" the Lord sounded as if he were about to laugh at such a preposterous idea. 

"No, my Lord, that would be me," the younger guard said, stepping forward with his eyes to the ground. 

"You shot Estel, Therion?" Elrohir choked out, half out of shock and half out of the need to conceal his laughter. 

"I panicked," was all he said in reply to the elder Elf. 

"So you shot him?" Elrohir asked before his father could. 

"I was aiming for the Elf," Therion muttered, his eyes still fixated on the ground, "but Estel knocked him out of the way." 

All eyes turned to Estel who was still on the ground and the young man had to force himself not to wave silly at them. Even to him all that had transpired this night seemed weird and he almost pitied his father and elder brothers. It was hard enough for him to understand let alone for someone who had not seen the happening to fathom. All he knew was that he did not want the Elf that he held to be killed but he did not even know why. 

Throughout the entire conversation he had just sat there and rocked the now sleeping Elf backwards and forwards, stroking his hair reassuringly. Again he was overcome with the strong desire to protect the blond Elf and make sure that he was not harmed. None of it made sense, this Elf had tried to kill him and yet here he was, not wanting to let him go. All he could conclude was that he must have been going mad and the full impact of the loss of sanity had just hit him as the process of loosing his wits and his ability to think straight had sped up within the last half an hour. 

"Why, prey tell," Elladan began while slowly approaching Estel as if he were a rabid warg, "did you knock him out of the way?" 

Estel looked up at his elder brother with an innocent smile plastered upon his face. Elladan, Elrohir and himself got along well and they were the perfect brothers. Estel could remember when he was but a child brought to the house of the Lord Elrond and how scared he had been. He had expected the elder Elves and sons' of the lord to shun him for his humanity, but they did quite the opposite; they took in with open arms and, although they tried to hide it, were very protective of their human brother. The three were inseparable, always getting into some mess or another and Estel soon found that both twins shared the same light-hearted, easygoing sense of humor as he himself did. 

Elrohir was the one that would laugh at anything and once he was started he could not stop to save his life, while Elladan was more likely to hide is amusement and have only his eyes lit with silent chuckles. Again, Elrohir being the youngest, even only by a matter of minutes was more of the trouble maker of the two, the trickster, but Elladan always found himself going along with whatever little plan his younger brother had and both would take Estel along for the ride. 

It amazed Estel to no ends at just how alike they were and yet how different. Elladan was more in control of himself while Elrohir was more the free spirit of the two and did not care what others thought of him. Elladan was much more conscious that he had a duty to fulfill and had to be guarding of his manner in others' presence. Yet once he was alone with both Elrohir and Estel, he was the exact same as his brother. 

Also, while they almost always agreed with each other, the twins would always take different sides when Estel was concerned. Elladan was more inclined to side with Elrond - whether it be out of duty or he truly did believe that what the lord said was always right - while Elrohir would side with Estel, lending his support in any debate that arose. 

Even now, when Elladan looked down upon him, Estel could see the humor in the Elf's eyes, and 'twas easy to see that Elrohir was almost on the verge of tears from holding in his laughter. 'Twas this and this alone that helped Estel find the words that he was searching for, though not really knowing what to say. 

"It seemed like the right thing to do?" he asked more that said. He was still not clear on the situation himself and it was fast becoming stranger. He was aware that even while he spoke and looked upon his adopted family he was still stroking the blond haired Elf's hair and had sub-consciously moved him into a sitting position in his lap so he could more easily lean the Elf's head on his shoulder. 

At this Elladan smirked and out of the corner of his eye, Estel could see Elrohir start to bite on his thumbnail in order to silence himself. Elrond, on the other hand, looked less than pleased yet he said no more, patiently awaiting Estel to say something more on the situation at hand. 

"I," Estel managed to slowly say ere biting down on his lip. How could he tell the people watching that he wanted to protect this Elf? That he wanted to continue to hold him and get to know him? The entire idea was absurd and ridiculous. 

Elrond continued to look at his two sons that stood before him, and eventually his eyes fell on Legolas. The lord could hardly help the slight glare that he sent the blond, sleeping Elf and as Estel defiantly pulled Legolas further into his arms having noticed Elrond's harsh look, the lord almost regretted it. 

Finally a voice cut through the silence that hung heavily in the air, "this has gone on long enough," Elrond proclaimed ere waving his hand forward to tell the guards to separate Estel and the Elf. Both Coravil and Therion moved forward somewhat hesitantly, and were soon followed by another two of the guards. "Take the Elf to the holding cells and Estel to his room so I may attend his wound," Elrond concluded, being the first one out of all there to contrive a rational thought. 

At this statement and the advancement of the guards, Estel tightened his grip on the Elf and moved as best as he could to put himself between the guards and the unknown blond. "He can come with me," he stated firmly and was relieved to see the guards' stop in their tracks. 

"No he can not," Elrond contradicted and inclined his head to inform the guards to continue. 

Again Estel hugged the Elf as if he were a favorite toy of a child that a parent had threatened to take away. Having already concluded that he did not understand the entire situation he had only one thing that he knew that he did fathom, and that was that he did not want to let the Elf go any time soon. 

When a pair of hands came towards the Elf that he held, Estel angrily slapped them away ere putting both arms around the slender waist again and spitting out a harsh and pouty, "no." 

Therion looked at Coravil with an astonished look, who then looked to Elrond. Unbeknownst to those three, Elladan was looking on in confusion at Estel and his new behavior and Elrohir was bent over doubled with quiet laughter and watching the best that he could through one open eye. 

"Estel." Elrond said strongly while waving the guards' forward again. Therion and Coravil reached for the blond Elf for a second time only to be slapped away again. 

Sighing in frustration, Coravil sent a puzzled look at Elladan and then Elrond, conveniently overlooking the now almost hysterical Elrohir. "My lord?" he questioned, hoping that Elrond would know what to do. 

"Estel, let Coravil take him," Elrond said more sternly this time before sending an irritated glare at Elrohir who was now leaning against a tree. 

Never before had Elrohir seen Estel act this way, and something about the way his lips were pushed forward in a sulky manner was just hilarious. It was so unlike his human brother to be so protective or even possessive of anyone or anything, let alone someone who had only moments before tried to kill him. After the look shot his way form Elrond, and yet another received from Elladan, he slowly thought it best if he try to gain a hold of himself. Telling himself that this was a serious matter and that the Elf that Estel was still slapping hands away from was a would-be murderer, he lifted his shoulders and bit the insides of his cheeks in order not to smile, giving him the appearance of a fish. 

Almost hissing at Therion, Estel knew that this was starting to get ridiculous and that his father was right, the Elf should be taken to the holding cells. However, every time he had made up his mind to let the guards take him, he found himself instinctively lashing out time and time again, using one arm to continue to hold the Elf to his chest. 

It was like a repetitive game of cat and mouse; every time one of the guards came at him, he told himself that this had gone on long enough and that he would let the Elf go - so he would hit them away yet again. 

"Estel!" Elrond's voice commanded the attention that had been lost throughout the entire ordeal and all eyes, including Elrohir's, turned to him in shock at his angry tone. "Estel, this is not a game. This Elf tried to kill you and could quiet easily try again if we do not act before he awakes." Elrond's gaze again went to the sleeping Elf that was blissfully unaware of all that was transpiring around him, and his expression hardened even more. "Now let him go!" 

Estel half shrunk back at the dominant tone in the lord's voice but still did not let go. It was at this point that the first rational thought that he had experienced in a long time came to him, and, deciding that he had nothing to lose, he resolved to act upon it. 

Glaring harshly at the guards that stood near him and letting a slight growl pass his lips, he held the Elf close and prepared to put his plan into action. Estel was thoroughly pleased when the guards retreated a few steps, allowing him the leeway that he needed. Holding the Elf as tight as he could without crushing the thin creature, Estel leapt to his feet and swung the Elf up so that he had one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. Pulling the Elf as close as possible he made to run away, but something stopped him. 

A small moan filled the air and suddenly all eyes turned to the being that he now carried in his arms. Glazed over blue eyes blinked then slowly cleared and looked up at him and Estel found himself smiling down at the one that he held. The eyes blinked again, and once more before staying open and transfixed upon Estel's. 

"Put me down," a soft voice said, causing all to lean in closer to hear it. Estel merely gazed back at the Elf and smiled again, pulling him as close to his chest as humanly possible, enjoying the feel of the Elf's silky hair upon his neck. His shoulder was paining slightly but he had long since decided that it was worth it to hold the Elf in such a manner. 

"I said put me down!" the blond repeated in a tone that was astonishingly harsh for his current weak appearance. 

Estel again felt the want to hold onto the Elf and that need to get to know him better. "What if I do not want to?" he asked teasingly while looking deep into the Elf's eyes. 

Something in the blue orbs flashed and for the first time since Estel had fully seen his to be killer he saw him as dangerous and not some pretty thing that should be patted on the head. Before he could even think more on the subject, a sharp pain in his right shoulder told him something was wrong. 

As the pain increased he heard a yelled protest from Elladan and an angry command form Elrond followed by a rather high-pitched scream that he knew unfortunately came from him. Looking down at the Elf in his arms, he saw that the Elf's eyes were wide and alert and almost shinning in pleasure while a twisted smile played at the corners of his mouth. One of the still nameless Elf's hands was around the back of Estel's back and he was slowly twisting the arrow in the wound and pushing it further in as he went. 

Estel's eyes' widened at the sadistic gleam in the blue depths as he continued to gasp out in pain and yet became fully aware that he had still not made any move to let the Elf go. 

"PUT ME DOWN!" the blond screamed at him ere pushing the arrow through even more. Finally Estel came to his senses and released the Elf, who dropped rather ungracefully to the ground. 

Looking frantically around him, Legolas assessed the trouble that he was in now. He did not have the slightest clue what had happened when he had been asleep but waking to find himself in the arms of the being that he had wanted to kill was just to peculiar - even for him to understand. 

As he watched the human's face twist in pain he again felt that tinge of guilt and wondered for a moment just what his problem was. Then he remembered, this man had killed his best friend, his teacher and his bodyguard. Shot through the heart with an arrow and left to die - forced to leave this world well before his time and this human had been the cause of all that, and had not even admitted to it. Instead he had fled and never looked back and then he had the audacity to be angry at him for trying to kill him. 

As two twin Elves, both dark-haired and grey-eyed started to approach him, Legolas decided that this would be the best time to make a run for it. Not even thinking twice, he turned and sent his fist into the face of one guard before kicking another in the stomach. As soon as that was accomplished, he fled from the clearing and into the thick trees that surrounded the Last Homely House, hearing the enraged shouts of the Lord trickle through the dense woods. 

Running as fast as his tired legs could carry him, he headed back in the direction of his belongings that he had left behind in order to be able to sneak in easier. Jumping over boulder after moss covered boulder and dodging the trees' branches the best he could, he soon came across the area that he had left his bags and horse in. 

His saddlebags remained on the forest floor where he had left them only a few hours ago and his horse was grazing over at the other end of the tiny clearing. Snatching up his gear, he sprinted over to the waiting white horse and threw the saddlebags over the back, strapping them to the simplistic saddle ere leaping up onto the horse and urging him onwards. 

For the first time since he had woken he gave a moment to think about what had happened. The attempting to leave, then the hostage situation, the strange pain in his head and then the human saving him. He could recall the human being the one to help him when he was sick and then holding him and whispering softly in Elven into his ear to get him to relax. Legolas relised that he must have fallen asleep in Estel's arms and when he had woken Estel was attempting to take him somewhere. Where he did not know, but something deep down told him that he had done the wrong thing. That he should have let the human live and that he should not have acted so harshly. 

As if it were the act of thought that spurred it on, the intense pain that had overcome him in the room returned threefold. Gasping in pain and squeezing his eyes shut, all he could do to stay on his horse and not hit the ground that rushed beneath him, and that even seemed too hard. Hugging to his horse's neck he lay his head down on the spot just below it's ears and shut his eyes, willing the pain to stop. 

Screams echoed in his head. Mixed screams of both Estel and Teltaur, his bane and his lost friend. The one he hurt and the one that was hurt by Legolas' victim. They repeated themselves over an over again, allowing Legolas not even a single moment's peace of mind. It was like the howling wind of a thunderstorm through the long, stone catacombs and dungeons of Mirkwood. Long and shrill. Always there and permitting no way to escape. It felt as if it tore at his pointed ears, that it pushed upon his eyes and blocked up his senses. 

Sinking even closer to his horse, Legolas found himself uncontrollably coughing and his entire body reeked in convulsions. Even hugging his horse's neck seemed a laborious task and was becoming harder and harder to continue to do. Tinnitus started to set in and Legolas felt as if he were surrounded by thousands on bells, all ringing madly and out of time yet through the loud commotion in his head he could still hear the screams and the anguish filled cries. 

As he continued to cough and urge his horse on, he was alarmed to taste a metallic substance on his tongue and as Legolas proceeded to be nauseated, he saw a thin trickle of glistening blood run down the white horses' neck. Feeling his head begin to spin anew, trepidation overcame him as he brought up even more blood from deep within his chest and saw the world blur beyond that that is was from moving. 

Pressing his eyes closed again, Legolas prayed to the Valar that it would end, but as yet another onslaught of choking and more blood followed he knew that it was pointless. Fighting to hold back the tears of pain that threatened to overflow, the prince of Mirkwood incited his horse on, forcing it to run at a cracking pace even though he knew that the animal could sense his plight. The only half-rational thought that came to Legolas through all the pain was to get as far away from Rivendell as possible. 

As he thought of leaving the Elven City far behind him the pain intensified and the blood that he coughed increased. Legolas could feel himself growing weaker by the second and each passing tremor that ran through his body threatened to knock him from his horse. 

Hope seemed lost to the prince as he realised that he could no longer even attempt to open his eyes. As he finally felt himself pass in to the blissful darkness of unconsciousness, the last thing that he was aware of was his horse rearing up slightly to allow the fallen prince to slide easily and gently to the ground. 

* * *

"Find him!" Lord Elrond half screamed at the guards that were standing there, wide-eyed and shocked. Elrond had made his way over to where Estel had collapsed and was attempting to stop the flow of blood that was leaving the wound. Elladan was attempting to calm Lord Elrond down before he yelled something that he should not as everyone knew that he was overly protective of Estel. Elrohir was torn between laughing and running after the blond Elf to drag him back to face the consequences of his actions. 

Deciding that it was too hard to chose, he opted for both. Chuckling lightly to himself he ran in the direction to the stables, calling out over his shoulder. "Settle down, father, I shall find him." 

At this both Elladan and Elrond exchanged horrified glances and looked to Estel who, despite all that had happened, was the calmest one of the lot. 

Elladan looked to his father again ere sprinting off in the same direction as his younger brother. "'Tis no comfort to me knowing that only he will search for him," he yelled back at his father who shook his head in a sign of hopelessness. 

Estel thought it only fitting that he should aid his brothers in their search and tried to get to his feet but a pair of restricting arms held him back to the ground. "You are not going anywhere till we get this arrow out and the wound healed," Elrond informed him sternly. 

Looking desperately over his shoulder at the fleeting forms of his Elven brothers', Estel gulped. This was not good. Not only was he in trouble with Elrond, but the other two people that were protective of him were after the Elf that had hurt him, and they would be as relentless as usual. "Do not hurt him," he yelled at the twins' backs. 

Turning back to Elrond, he was just in time to catch the lord roll his eyes in frustration. If the entire situation had been thought confusing before, Estel had now decided that it was even worse. Normally Elrond was the one to insist that all people be given the benefit of the doubt and aid that they might need, and to Estel it was clearly obvious that this blond Elf needed help. It made no sense that Elrond would take an instant dislike to the being and would be so harsh with him, especially since it was another Elf. 

"Why do you hate him so much?" Estel finally asked of the lord who was assisting him to his feet. 

"I do not hate him," Elrond insisted while steadying Estel and slowly walking back to the main entrance of the large house. "I just do not know him, and neither do you. I would advise you to stay away from him when they find him but I know that you will not heed my words." 

"Of course I would not," Estel replied with a smile, "what kind of son would I be if I listened to everything that you said?" both laughed but any more conversation was cut short by the sound of running feet. It appeared that one of the guards had alerted the healers of the current situation and they had come to lend their support. 

* * *

Elladan and Elrohir raced through the woods on their horses, trying to find any sign of the passing of the escaped Elf. 

"He may not have even come this way, Elladan," Elrohir insisted as he slowed his horse down to a trot. "I have yet to see any trace of him and I still say that he would have headed west from the clearing." 

Elladan shot his brother an inquisitive look ere returning his gaze back to the forest. "Why do you say west?" 

Elrohir looked down at his horses black mane and thought a moment before replying. "I do not rightfully know. I guess it is just what I would have done if I were in such a position." Truthfully he had no idea why he had chosen west over their current path of east but it seemed like the smart thing to do. 

"But he headed east from the clearing," Elladan reminded his brother while looking around him, still hoping to find any sign of the Elf. He and Elrohir were the two best trackers in Rivendell and the thought of them loosing their prey was a devastating one and something that they would never live down if word got out. 

"Indeed he may have," Elrohir agreed, "but, to successfully get into Rivendell unnoticed he would have had to cut in through the Hithaeglir as it is the one side that is not thoroughly guarded. Also, he is an Elf, he would have known about the path over the mountains and used it to his advantage." Stopping to look at his brother he saw that Elladan was seriously considering all that he had said and Elrohir was grateful for that. Knowing that he was on to something, but just not knowing what, he continued. "Also, by the greens of his clothing it is obvious that he hailed from Mirkwood, thus giving him a better pass from his home into ours." 

"I do see what you mean, Elrohir," Elladan said thoughtfully, "but then should he not go back this way in order to get home quicker?" 

"Aye, but not if he were fleeing from someone." Elrohir thought out loud. "He would have relised that we would note the way in which he ran away and possible even been aware enough to know that we would be able to tell his attire from any other Elven land. Why lead us straight back to his only safe place, to his home?" Stopping again to think of what he was saying, Elrohir bit his bottom lip while glancing let to right. "Now, suppose if you were being followed for something like this, would you not want to lead your pursuers' in the wrong direction? 

"What if he simply went east to reclaim his belongings and probably his horse? Where then would you go?" Elrohir asked of his brother, hoping the he would be able to find something logical in his ravings. 

Elladan though on this for a moment while putting himself in the place of the fleeing Elf. While it seemed logical to go over the mountain pass and back to Mirkwood, it also seemed too easy and predictable. "If I were him," Elladan started, thinking as much as a fugitive as he could, "I would not lead anyone back to my home. I would-" 

He was cut off by Elrohir ending the thought for him. "You would, once being in possessions of any incriminating belongings such as a horse and bags, go in the other direction, specifically the opposite one to which your pursuers' saw you run - even if it meant heading away from your destination." 

"But surely you can not mean to say that he would go all the way to the ford and then down to the gap of Rohan just to get back to Mirkwood?" 

"If it meant the difference between staying free and alive from being caught, then yes, I would go that way. It may take longer, but no one in their right mind would think to look for me that way." 

Not realising what he had said, Elrohir was surprised when Elladan shot him a worried glance. "So you are expecting me to believe an Elf who has just confessed to the fact that if anyone thought of such a route, they would not be in their right mind?" 

"Ye-" realization came over Elrohir as his brother's words sunk in. Crinkling his brows in concern for his own well being, he bit his lip and tried not to laugh. "Well, yes, think of it as a crazy's intuition." 

Both looked at each other and wordlessly turned their horses in the opposite direction and rode at full speed towards the west.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbc... 
> 
> There you go, yet another chapter of yet another story. Aren't you people getting sick of me yet?? Seriously I don't think that I have held people's interest and attention for so long in my life. Normally they get bored with me - or is that cause I just tell them to get lost and to 'blow me' - should work on my personally and social skills huh? 
> 
> Minka Rain Greenleaf


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